The Service Court today was filled with solemn-faced nobles, many of whom showed unmistakable signs of the previous evening’s carouse. Haman remained on the fringe of the crowd so that he could make an unobtrusive exit if necessary. He had spent half the night heaving up his insides and his stomach still did not feel calm. He almost did get sick when he saw the tall, dark-haired man with a thin, intelligent face standing close to the judge’s chair.
The Jew from the Treasury Office
. Haman’s eyes narrowed as he remembered all the times he had passed Mordecai and not known he was a Jew. He had only discovered Mordecai’s background yesterday, when he had learned about the plot to kill the king. It was a bitter thought to Haman that it was a Jew who had saved Ahasuerus from the murderous plan.
There was a stir by the main door on the east wall of the Service Court, and Sisames, the judge who would be hearing Smerdis’ case today, came in. His white hair showed his venerable years, and the distinctive scarlet stole of justice was draped around his stooped shoulders. He crossed to the high-backed judge’s chair, then, with slow deliberation, turned to face the smaller door on the west wall. A narrow purple carpet ran from this door to the Great King’s empty throne.
Everyone in the Service Court turned with the judge. Minutes passed. Haman thought about his own miserable physical state and wondered if the king was indisposed.
Finally the door they were all watching so intently opened. A page stepped into the court and in a clear high treble announced the entrance of the Great King. A moment later Ahasuerus appeared, dressed in full court attire. His outer robe, dyed with costly Phoenician purple, was embroidered in gold with pictures of an eagle. His tunic was purple also, and the white trousers that showed beneath the robe were edged with purple as well. He wore a gold crown, gold earrings, gold bracelets, and about his waist a gold belt to support the short Persian sword that hung at his side. In his right hand he carried a slender golden scepter.
At the king’s entrance the entire roomful of men prostrated themselves. They remained thus until he had crossed the carpet and taken his seat upon the high golden lion’s throne that stood to the judge’s right.
The men in the room rose to their feet. Sisames mounted his crimson footstool to sit in the judge’s chair, where he called for the prisoner. Smerdis, wearing only a plain white tunic, was brought in by two guards to stand before Sisames. The charges against the Grand Vizier were read by a clerk, and Smerdis declared in a loud, defiant voice that they were untrue. Sisames then called Milis and Artanes to give their evidence.
Haman watched Ahasuerus as Milis related his interview with Teresh. No sign of any emotion except polite interest appeared on the king’s face as he listened to the treacherous tale. Nor did the king betray any sign that he had been drinking the night before. Haman, who knew how much haoma Ahasuerus had consumed, was amazed.
Next Sisames called Mordecai, who related to the judge how the two guardsmen had approached him because they hoped he could get word of the plot to the queen.
Haman was horrified to hear that Esther had been introduced to the court by a Jew. He had heard that her mother’s family was Babylonian. How did this Jew fit into her background?
The Jew was speaking Aramaic in the accent of Susa, not of Babylon. Many Babylonian Jews had emigrated to Susa, of course, and they had insinuated their way into the city’s commerce, as they had done in Babylon.
They are like a pack of vultures
, Haman thought bitterly
. Wherever they go, they make money by putting the local merchants out of business. They are never satisfied; they always want more. Look at how they want to take our land in Palestine away from us!
Mordecai finally finished giving his testimony and next Sisames called Coes, who reported in an emotionless voice the suicide of Teresh. An audible shock ran around the room when the gathered courtiers heard this news.
After Coes had returned to his place, Sisames said to Smerdis, who had been standing in front of the judge the whole time, “How do you answer these charges, Grand Vizier?”
“My lord Sisames,” Smerdis said, in the same loud defiant voice he had used to declare his innocence. “It is true that these two guards approached me with their story about Teresh’s plot, but it was so ridiculous that I did not believe them. That is the only reason I did not report what they said to the king, my lord. I simply did not think that such a mad plan, supposedly headed by the commander of the king’s own Bodyguard, could be true!”
“Did you consider, Grand Vizier, what reason these men might have for concocting such a lie?” Sisames asked.
Smerdis turned his head toward Ahasuerus. “I thought they wanted to impress the king with their loyalty. Everyone knows how much the king reveres that virtue. I could not conceive that Teresh, a man I knew, would be plotting against the king’s life. It did not sound possible.”
Sisames coughed gently and Smerdis reluctantly returned his attention to the judge. Sisames said, “You did not think that the king’s life was too valuable for you to take such a risk? You did not think that, even if there was only a very small chance that these men might be telling the truth, you should report their accusation and let the king investigate?”
Smerdis spread his thick hands. “My lord Sisames, I can assure you that I bear no animosity toward the king! I simply did not believe they were telling the truth!”
The lines in Sisames’ old face deepened. “Then, if you thought these guards were lying, why did you not order their arrest?”
For the first time, Smerdis’ voice dropped in volume. “My lord, I did not want to see Teresh’s name blackened by this lie.”
Sisames let a little silence fall. When he spoke again his voice sounded merely curious. “I see. You were willing to risk the king’s life in order to safeguard the reputation of your friend?”
Smerdis cast a quick, hunted look at Ahasuerus, whose politely interested expression had never varied. “I did not think the king’s life was in danger,” he repeated once again.
“The guardsman called Milis will approach me,” Sisames called.
Milis stepped forward once more, his booted footsteps clearly audible in the hushed silence of the room.
“You quite specifically told the Grand Vizier that the assassination was set for Friday night, the night of the Mithra Festival?”
“Yes, my lord.” Milis’ voice was firm.
“You told him this on Thursday morning?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“And by Thursday night, when it became apparent that Smerdis had not gone to the king, what did you think?”
“I thought, my lord, that Smerdis might be involved in the plot with Teresh. I thought that my own life, and that of my friend, were probably in danger along with the king’s.”
“And that was when you went to Mordecai, whom you knew to be a friend of the queen’s?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Total silence reigned in the Service Court.
Sisames rose and turned to Ahasuerus. “Do you have anything to add to this testimony, my Lord King?”
“No,” Ahasuerus said.
Sisames turned back to the accused and made his judgment. “Smerdis, son of Artaphernes, I find you guilty of treason against the person of the Great King and I sentence you to execution by beheading, this sentence to be carried out before noon today.”
Smerdis went pasty white. He licked his lips, opened them as if to speak, then closed them again.
“Take him away,” Sisames said to the guards.
As a half-fainting Smerdis was led away, the king rose and gestured for Sisames to approach him. “I thank you, my Lord Judge, for your wisdom and your resolution.” His soft voice was effortlessly audible to the entire room.
Sisames replied, “He was clearly guilty, my lord. I wonder you didn’t sentence him yourself.”
“I was not as impartial as a judge should be,” Ahasuerus said.
“You are an example of justice to us all, my lord,” Sisames answered.
Ahasuerus’ eyes swept around the Service Court, searching the faces of the men who were assembled there. His gaze stopped when it lit on Haman, who was standing by one of the columns at the edge of the crowd. “Haman, come here.”
Haman was unprepared for the summons, but he managed to walk steadily across the floor, taking care not to let his feet touch the king’s purple carpet. In private he was allowed to kiss Ahasuerus upon the cheek, but public protocol called for the prostration. He performed this now, praying he wouldn’t be sick all over the ceramic tiled floor.
Ahasuerus told him to rise, then came down from the dais, and resting his hands lightly upon the Palestinian’s shoulders, turned him around to face the court. “Behold my new Grand Vizier.”
Haman was certain he could hear a shocked intake of breath run around the room. The timbre of the king’s voice never changed. “I am Ahasuerus, the Great King, son of Darius, the Great King, an Achaemenid, a Persian, the son of a Persian.” He paused. “Thus do I punish my enemies, and thus do I reward my friends.”
As Haman felt the royal hands lift from his shoulders, he turned and prostrated himself once more. Ahasuerus stepped upon the purple carpet to make his exit and every man in the room dropped to the floor and almost ceased to breathe until he was gone.
E
sther and Luara were sitting in the queen’s reception room, looking at a display of rings. Esther did not want or need any new rings, but Ahasuerus had told her that it was her duty, as queen, to patronize the Susa jewelry merchants. Unfortunately, this did not mean that she should go to the shops; it meant that the merchants should bring their wares to her. For a moment a vision of the Jewish marketplace where she used to shop flashed into her mind. How Rachel and she had pitied the poor Persian women who were not able to go out to market. Never had she dreamt that one day she herself would be one of those poor creatures for whom she had felt such easy compassion.
She handed Luara a ring and said, “Try this one on and let’s see how it looks.”
Luara did so with alacrity, admiring the glittering jewel on her finger.
Esther’s mind was not on the rings. Mordecai had asked for an appointment to see her and she knew she could not put her uncle off. She also knew what he was going to say and she did not want to hear it. Mordecai would be agonizing over Haman’s appointment as Grand Vizier and he would want Esther to do something. He simply would not or could not understand that there was nothing she
could
so. It was not possible for her to question Ahasuerus about this appointment. For one thing, he had married her because she had no political interests, and for another, he would surely wonder why she was taking an interest in Haman’s appointment when she had never shown an interest in any other appointments he had made. She could not do anything that might cause Ahasuerus to take a closer look into her background.
Esther hated being at odds with her beloved uncle. In fact, she had been very glad that he was with her during that long terrifying night when they discovered the plot against Ahasuerus. But Mordecai did not understand her position.
She could assure him that Palestine was quiet. The prophet Obadiah, whom Mordecai had feared would stir the Jews to rebellion, was preaching to deaf ears. Ahasuerus wanted peace; he would not be provoked to send troops unless there was an uprising. But no uprising seemed likely.
These were all things that Mordecai probably already knew, and she suspected he would not be satisfied with such a general response. But it was the best she could do.
She stood up restlessly and said to Luara, “You pick one of these rings, Luara. I probably will never wear it anyway. I’m out of sorts and I’m going to the Rose Court to recover my good temper.”
“Certainly, my lady.” Luara was enjoying looking at the rings far more than Esther had.
Hathach was waiting at the door, and Esther followed him as he went through the hallway crying, “Make way for the queen.”
Esther told Hathach she did not wish to be disturbed and slipped into the Rose Court. It was autumn, her favorite time of year, that brief season between the heat of summer and the cold rains of winter. She inhaled the scent of the late roses, so richly colored and fragrant this time of year, and went to sit on the bench by the fountain. The sun was delightfully warm and she tilted her face toward it like a flower drinking in light.
Muran would tell her she was ruining her skin. If the Mistress ever learned about those wagon trips with Luara and Hathach around the plateau in Ecbatana, she would have been horrified. But Ahasuerus hadn’t cared then if her nose got sunburned, and he wouldn’t care now.
At the thought of her husband, tears filled her eyes. It seemed as if she cried at everything these days. It was because of the baby, Luara said.
She had to tell Ahasuerus about the baby. She wanted to tell him. It was just . . . she felt as if she were being torn in two, and that telling him about the baby would rend her completely. Telling him would force her to make a final choice: she could be a Jew and tell him who she really was and why she had been sent to him; or she could be a Persian and continue to lie to him for the rest of her life.
Her great fear was that if she told him the truth, she would lose both Ahasuerus and their child. But if she lied . . . how could she live out her life knowing she was a fraud? Fearing that one day her husband might find out?